The Morning After
by eloquentelegance
Summary: The Sky is not supposed to die. That much Gokudera was sure of. But that doesn't change the bitter reality he faces. Drabble.


The morning after was such a surreal thing. The sun rose from the east, just like it did everyday. The sunlight streaming through the thick curtains and pooling unto the heavy blankets. And Gokudera rose from his sleep.

He yawned.

Today should be just like any other day. Gokudera would wake up, wash, and dress. The normal routine. But something bugged him. Something important.

A heavy feeling. An incredible weight in his chest. Gokudera felt as if he was suffocating. His legs were shaking. His heart was trembling. He felt terrified. He felt horribly afraid. Of what? Of who? Why?

Donning his Armani suit, Gokudera tucked a dynamite in the inside of his coat. Just in case. He smoothed out his hair, just like he did every morning. Being the Right-Hand man, he had to look presentable. For the Tenth.

_The Tenth..._

That name sent tremors that wracked his entire body. A chill slithering down his spine. Oh, god. Something was wrong. Something...But what?

Gokudera shook it off. A flu must've been going around. That's it. He felt sick. He was probably coming down with something. That was it. Right? Right?

He pasted a smile on his face. Whether it looked real, Gokudera did not know. Nor did Gokudera care. The day had begun. The Tenth must not be kept waiting. So, he left. Out of his room. Into the desolate hallway of the Vongola mansion.

The oriental carpet was spotless as ever. The mahogany furniture were all polished, not a speck of dust. Tapestries and paintings, art of every kind lined the walls. Nothing was missing. But something was lost. Everything was accounted for. There was nothing out of place. So... Why did it feel so wrong?

Nonetheless, Gokudera shook it off. Walking proudly to the end of the hall, heading for those double-oak doors. For behind it. Surely. The Tenth would be waiting. He would be smiling. Or perhaps he would be tired. Maybe he fell asleep? The Tenth tended to do that. All that paperwork, in another language no less. That _would _be tiresome.

He quickened his pace.

With all his enthusiasm, with all his zeal, he threw open the doors. The traditional morning greeting falling from his lips. Only to have his world crash around him.

_Where...? Where is he? He should be here. He should be here, right? But he's not. Why isn't he here? He should be greeting me back. He should be smiling. Why--?!_

"Gokudera..." A voice spoke behind him. He recognized it as Yamamoto. Albeit a hoarse, ill-sounding Yamamoto. He must've caught the flu too. He must've.

"Oi, baseball-idiot. Where's the..." Gokudera spun around, the question catching in his throat.

Yamamoto was... crying? But why? His eyes were red and swollen. Fresh tears streaming down his already soaked face. His shoulders quivered. "Gokudera, don't do this. You know, right? You have to know, right?"

Gokudera felt like throwing up. The harsh light of reality was breaking through the warm security of fantasy. And he was absolutely petrified. "Kn-Know what, baseball-idiot? Come on, spit it out!"

Yamamoto started, his expression one of shock. But then... He smiled. It was that kind of smile. The smile that makes others want to cry. A melancholic smile. Gokudera wanted to punch him.

"He's dead, Gokudera. Tsuna...Remember? He died. Yesterday." Yamamoto stated, almost as if he was talking about the weather. But there was a deep burden carried by those words.

The earth was torn from under Gokudera's feet. He fell to his knees. "Y-You're lying. This-This is a joke, right Yamamoto? Quit-Quit fucking with me! Where's the Tenth?!"

Gokudera was almost hysterical. His eyes pleading as he looked at Yamamoto with the desperation of a starving man.

_Because the Tenth couldn't be...Because the Tenth wasn't..._

"I'm sorry, Gokudera."

And with that, the silver-haired man tackled the other. He straddled his comrade in arms, a friend for more than a decade, and began beating him senseless. Right hook. Left hook. Over and over. And over again.

To make him shut up. Please, make him shut up.

_Don't say those words! Don't tell me that! Lie to me, I don't care! Just please...Please!_

Someone grabbed him from behind. Gokudera didn't know who he was. And once again. He couldn't bring himself to care. He struggled viciously as he was hauled up. Kicking, screaming like a wounded animal. Until finally...Finally...

He got away.

_This is wrong._

He thought while running.

_"This is wrong."_

He shouted as tore down the hall.

_The Tenth should've come by now. He would've pulled them apart. Him and that Baseball-idiot. Why didn't he? Why didn't he come? Why isn't he here?!_

His feet carried him outside the mansion. Out into the pouring rain. The doors slammed shut behind him. The powerful wind heaving the doors closed.

Thunder roared in the heavens above. Lightning streaking through the sky, a flash of ethereal white. Gokudera looked up. He couldn't see Sky. It was hidden behind the clouds. The dark, grey clouds. Permitting no light to escape. Drowning the world in a solemn darkness.

_He isn't here._

Gokudera swallowed. The gentle rain drenching him.

_He isn't anywhere._

A few tears, warm and heavy, rolling down his cheeks.

_I can't see him anymore. I'll never see him again._

And he cried. Sobs shaking his entire body.

_"Because he's dead. He's dead!"_

Those eyes will never open. Those lips will never smile. There will never be a morning greeting. A sleeping boss to wake up. Never. Ever. Again.

_"TEEEEEEENTH!!!"_

He continued to stand there. Not moving. Not once. Looking up bleakly. As the storm hid away the precious sky. As the heavens themselves wept with eternal grief.


End file.
